by Sarah Noffke
“How close do you need to be?”
“Ten to fifteen feet usually,” he said, leaning forward and squinting at the house with two turrets in the front, one on either side of the atrocity. It didn’t remind Rox of the lake house where she grew up in the country. It reminded her of the horrible McMansions that rich socialites built on tiny lots after tearing down cute bungalows. No one knew she came from nothing and had built a small nest egg which she’d use one day to buy a cottage on the top of a mountain. Something perfectly quaint.
“So, this x-ray vision,” she said, her eyes traveling over to the giant oak tree in the front yard of the Magners’ house. It was the only thing she liked about the place. “Are you a pervert with it, checking out my lacy panties and bra when we’re in meetings?”
Methodically, Zephyr turned his head and regarded Rox with a repulsed expression. “What? You’re a girl? One who wears a bra? I had no idea,” he said, and she guessed he was working hard to keep his eyes off the tight blouse she was sporting. She revolved toward the backseat, pulling her leather jacket from where it had been resting.
“So, I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she said, pulling the jacket on and zipping it up to just where her cleavage began.
“And no, I don’t. It takes effort and expends energy to use my x-ray vision. Those are both things that I won’t waste on you,” he said, his eyes now on the house again. “But since we’re playing the curious question game, if your skin is resistant then does that mean you’re numb?”
“Pretty much, but not in certain areas. You know, the ones that count for pleasure,” she said with a wink, turning again to fetch something from the backseat. When she spun back around she held up a blue leash.
“What’s that for?” Zephyr said, his eyes going skinny with anger.
“It’s your excuse for getting close to the house. You lost your dog and are going door to door to find him. Let’s call him Kay-Kay, just to be cute. You know, for Kaleb,” Rox said.
“That’s so fucking cute,” he said, grabbing the leash with an irritated force.
“Go round up your doggy,” Rox said, smiling wide.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Dreaming and dream traveling are both conducive to keeping the balance of the consciousness.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
“I thought I’d find you here,” Connor said, pulling a chair out from the conference room table.
Adelaide lifted her eyes from her father’s book and regarded him with indignation; it was a look she wore often. “Wow, you’re a bloody detective,” she said dryly.
“You’re British,” he said, no question in his voice.
“You’re a drug addict,” she said on the cusp of his words.
His green eyes closed for a half beat when he took a seat. She observed the steady breath he pulled in and he looked less flustered when he opened his eyes again. “Information from my file? I’m guessing the Lucidites know everything of relevance about me,” he said.
“You guessed right, but you’ve lived a fairly boring life. You don’t even have any hobbies. Like isn’t it required for American boys to play football or baseball?” she said, her eyes back on her book, her attention on Connor.
“Those are some detailed files. I played video games growing up, does that count?” he said, his eyes on her hand resting on the thick pages of the leather-bound book.
“No, it just confirms that you’re a loser,” she said.
“What are your hobbies?” he said, and for Connor to show any curiosity in another person was rare. Adelaide knew that from his file. He’d been described by a so-called friend as not really a wallflower, but more of an apathetic large piece of artwork. Connor was as sturdy as a statue and usually just as still. And yet people noticed him because of his piercing green eyes that seemed to be judging the world harshly.
“I grew up penniless, so not a lot of money for riding lessons or whatnot,” Adelaide said, her eyes narrowing on a phrase from her father’s book.
“You don’t choose what makes you happy, or who, but when you find it, never fucking let it go.”
She didn’t like that phrase and she didn’t know why.
“But now you’re a hotshot agent for what the Dream Traveler Codex calls ‘the most powerful organization in the world,’” he said and then watched as Adelaide’s face transformed. “Why’d that make you smile?”
“What? I didn’t smile,” she said, tucking the book up higher to cover her expression, which she realized had actually contained a smile of sorts. Those were Ren’s words: “the most powerful organization in the world.” He was a prideful man and spoke highly about the Lucidites. She remembered the first time she entered the Institute, she’d been extremely pregnant. Her father, who hadn’t approved of her “ruining [her] life by having a monster,” had hidden away from her for a month. However, later, she firmly believed he thought that Lucien was the best thing to happen to the family. He made Pops happy. Sometimes her son made her happy. Usually, though, he just made her feel like a failure, but Ren had said that was typical. “Our children bring out our greatest weaknesses,” he said to her one time. However, Adelaide wasn’t giving up on Lucien, even if the boy still ran from her. She had started off by hating her father and now he was the most important person in her life, even being dead. One day she’d fix things with Lucien, she’d make him fall in love with her, but first she needed to fall in love with herself. That message, in so many words, had been the first thing she read from the book that morning. Randomly she’d open Ren’s book upon waking, as it was always the first thing she did every day. And from the artificial light of her room she read:
“You can save the world, but if you don’t save yourself then it will never matter.”
“You did just smile. I saw it,” Connor said, challenging her. And now he was almost smiling too, she observed. The scarf he wore partially obscured the tattoo on his neck, under the gauge in his right ear. It was cold in the Institute, but she thought he wore the scarf to cover the tattoo, rather than to stay warm. Strange place to put a tattoo and then try and hide it. For coverage, he should have grown out his brownish hair, which had an essence of red to it. Connor’s hair wasn’t vibrant red like hers, but rather the softer shade that people go to great lengths to dye their natural color to. His hair stuck up on the top a couple inches and was mostly shaved on the sides. He wasn’t bad to look at, although most people’s faces made her want to puke.
“What’s that book?” he said, breaking the staring contest they’d unknowingly entered into.
She slapped it shut immediately. “Nothing,” she said, pulling it to her chest.
Again, another half-smile on his face. “So something of great importance, then?”
“No, it’s nothing. Just a dumb book,” she said.
“A dumb book you take everywhere you go. Is it a diary?” he said.
“God no!” she said, repulsed by the idea. “More like a field journal.”
“Yours?” he said, not seeming to want to shut up, as she wished he would.
“No, it’s not,” Adelaide said, and wasn’t sure why she’d told him this. She should have told him to fuck off or used mind control to get him to leave or stand on his head.
“Do you want to see what my psychic power is?” he said.
Oh, that’s right, his power would have surfaced, she thought. Maybe it had lain dormant due to his condition and being starved. “When did you get it?” she asked.
“Right before you all rescued me and I passed out. Since I’ve been here it’s gotten stronger. It’s really amazing. I want to show you,” he said, and there was a pureness in his voice, like he was keenly interested in sharing something of importance with her. This didn’t make sense to the girl who never trusted anyone, well, almost no one.
Connor extended his hand. “Can I hold your book? I promise not to open it.”
She eyed his hand and then him. Adelaide didn
’t know why his gift would involve holding an object. Maybe it was levitation or telekinesis. Either of those would seem like a cool skill to a guy who is used to being a lame Middling, she thought. However, most people’s skills didn’t impress Adelaide. Zephyr controlling wind wasn’t even that impressive. Great, he could give her a bad hair day. The thing was, because she controlled people with her mind and read thoughts, most others’ skills paled in all ways to hers. But for some reason she extended her hand and placed her most prized possession in his palm.
Connor closed his eyes, his large hands on the leather-bound book. When he opened them, there was almost a green glow to his eyes. “This was your father’s book,” he stated.
“How do you know that?” she said, standing at once, feeling herself tremble inside.
He stood too, his hands still wrapped around the book. “He’s the main author of the codex.”
She lurched forward, yanking the book from him. “So your skill is psychometry. Whatever,” she said. Aiden, the head scientist, also had this skill. It allowed him to hold any object and know who it belonged to and where it came from. He felt the energy of the person, and sometimes the history of the object.
“Ren Lewis, he’s your father…” Connor said, his eyes low now, his mind seeming to wrap around this idea.
Adelaide tried to remember what the codex said about her father. He’d written most of it. His biography would have been in there and Connor seemed to have memorized the bloody book.
“He was the head of the strategic department,” he said, his gaze distant, and then he looked at her, a spark in his eyes. “The chapters he wrote... They stood out from the other ones, the ones Aiden and Trey wrote. Ren’s came alive with knowledge and power. Your father is an incredibly impressive man, and that’s his book,” he said, pointing, his eyes seeming to know so much more than he was saying.
“Was,” she said, her voice sharp.
“What?” he said, blinking.
“My father was the most impressive man to ever live. And now he’s fucking dead,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Connor said, and he did look sorry, like the death was a personal one, like he understood the weight of the world losing Ren Lewis.
“Don’t be. People live and people die. It’s not a big tragedy. And he’s probably not even dead, knowing him,” she said, her eyes on the book in her hands.
“What? Like he faked his death?” he asked.
“No, like he’s in a parallel universe or a dreamscape or some other bullshit,” she said, her words suddenly tight and full of her vehemence.
“I like to read too. I guess you could call that my hobby, sort of,” Connor said, his voice low, making Adelaide calmer.
“You know from touching the book that my father read a lot?” she said.
He shook his head, a coy smile tucked at the corner of his mouth. “I know from touching the book that you’re an avid reader. The book belongs to you now. My gift told me a bit about both its owners.”
She struggled to swallow, not even wanting to fathom what he now knew about her. “Here, follow me,” she said.
“Where to?” Connor said, another curious look on his face.
“I’ll show you the Lucidite library. It’s the most amazing place you’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice full of the smile that wasn’t on her face.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Employees found taking extra breaks or long lunch hours will be terminated. The work here is top priority.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Zephyr discovered himself whistling like he was casually taking a walk up to the Magners’ house. He spun the leash in his hands, around and around. Rox had been crazy to plan such a cover, but he admitted that it gave him the reason he needed to approach the house. Once at the front door, his x-ray vision would tell him who was inside, most likely, depending on the size of the mansion before him.
The cobbled path that led to the double doors was streaked with light streaming through the neighboring oak tree overhead. Zephyr paused ten feet from the front door, his instinct piquing for a reason not clear to him. Three things then happened all at once. A car’s engine in the distance grew louder as it neared on the quiet street. Eyes, like those of a canine, shone in the dark of a yard across the street. And Zephyr heard the crack of a twig next to the oak tree. He froze, his hair standing up on his arms. His pupils narrowed. His breath grew hot with adrenaline.
Morgan stepped forward, the blasted twig crunching under his foot as he did. Zephyr’s gray eyes snapped on him at lightning speed. Well, they shot to where he stood, but the werewolf couldn’t see him.
Morgan couldn’t believe his luck. If he showed up to Olento Research with the prized Zephyr Flournoy, then Mika would reward him greatly. He’d read the files for all the subjects in Project Canis Lupus and knew Zephyr was a prized asset. Actually it was he and Kris who had abducted all of the men in the project, sneaking up on them while invisible and then knocking them out. It was a cinch.
Careful not to rustle his shirt or make any other minute sound that would trigger the guy’s senses, Morgan reached for the tranquilizer gun fastened to his hip. He’d have to be fast. Maybe step to the side as he unclipped the gun and withdrew it from the holster. Hopefully Zephyr would spring to the place where Morgan had been just as he fired a dart.
But before Morgan could put any of this into motion, Zephyr stepped to the side, hiding behind an arbor that covered the walkway and was drenched in roses. Morgan followed his gaze, which was hinged on the road. The car that had taken Mr. Magner away from the house this morning now slowed as it approached the driveway. Zephyr stood only watching, a blue leash in his hands. Maybe Morgan should wait until the two men interacted and then take Zephyr out as he retreated from the house. He probably wouldn’t find Kaleb that day, as he most likely hoped. Morgan’s back ached from standing guard at the house since sunrise. There had been no sign of Kaleb all day.
The Volvo sank back an inch when the emergency brake cranked into place, the driveway on a slight incline. Mr. Magner shuffled with his keys and briefcase, stealing Morgan’s attention. When he turned his gaze back on the arbor where Zephyr had been, the guy was gone. Morgan’s heart beat with sudden dread. He couldn’t fathom the possibility that he had one of the werewolves in his sights and had lost him. Making more noise than he would have cared for, he turned around in a complete circle trying to determine where Zephyr was now. He couldn’t be far. Not yet. It had only been a few seconds ago that he was hidden behind the arbor.
Morgan’s worried eyes swept to the man now absentmindedly carrying his briefcase in one hand, glancing at a newspaper in the other. He was only four feet from Morgan, his face drawn probably from a long day of sitting behind a desk.
“Uhhh…” someone said, causing Mr. Magner to halt. His face broke into an expression of confusion and then relief. He turned, and instantly he wore a smile.
“Kaleb?” he said, staring at the young man standing on the sidewalk behind the parked car. He wore a black hoodie and an expression that spoke of his terror.
Rox bolted from the SUV and then paused, standing just beside it. She’d watched and been impressed by the speed and grace Zephyr displayed as he darted through the yard and came around to stand on the other side of the oak tree. Kaleb had already been approaching, but hadn’t seen Zephyr there since his attention was centered on his father. From Rox’s position it had been exhilarating to watch the different parties, Zephyr, Mr. Magner, and Kaleb, and realize they were unaware of each other. Well, she was certain she knew the moment when Zephyr had spotted Kaleb, right before the car pulled up. It was something in his expression that told her he’d found what he’d been looking for.
She watched as Zephyr’s hands clenched and then released. He only stared at Kaleb, his presence still hidden behind the tree. Kaleb’s father stepped forward as his son edged backwards, hesitation evident in his movements. He wanted to
come home and yet he didn’t. The guy probably missed his family and also felt foreign to them now, Rox mused. Mr. Magner extended a hand to his son and only then did Kaleb stop retreating and take a step forward. And then each had their arms wrapped around one another, gripping the other with a quiet need. It was a real homecoming, one full of loss and tender pain. Zephyr only watched, obviously not wanting to interrupt the reunion. There would be time to bring Kaleb in, once he’d had this moment with his father. Then Kaleb stepped back, his head shaking. Rox pictured he was making an explanation for his absence, but all she could see was the stress on the older man’s face. And all she could hear were their muffled voices.
Kaleb took another step backward, waving his hands at his father. The older man’s face blossomed with red, anger written all over it. Kaleb turned toward the tree where Zephyr stood frozen, hidden on the other side. However, Kaleb’s confused face was on something adjacent to the tree. He squinted and then doubled over like he’d been assaulted. Again an unseen force struck Kaleb, making his head spin to the side. He turned to regard the empty space, both he and his father dumbstruck. And just then something unseen rammed into his mid-section, pushing him into the vehicle. Rox sprinted in the direction of the strange fight just as Zephyr shot out of his hiding place.
“What’s going on?” the older man yelled just as Morgan fumbled with the tranquilizer gun. Kaleb had been about to run, to flee after seeing his father. Morgan knew he had to stop him and the tranquilizer gun would be too slow. That had been the reason for the assault, which was much too easy. The invisible force always had the advantage. Now the young guy lay against the side of the Volvo, his chest heaving with giant breaths and his eyes searching the emptiness in front of him, confusion blanketing his expression.
But then his idiot father stalked over and stood facing his son, but also blocking Morgan’s sight of Kaleb. He couldn’t risk wasting a tranquilizer on the man. Morgan needed to get him out of the way and tranquilize Kaleb. That’s why he relied on his combat training and grabbed the man’s head with both his hands and yanked it to the side. A sharp quick movement, punctuated by a loud crack. The man slid from Morgan’s hands to reveal his prey standing before him. Kaleb’s eyes darted around and then to his father’s lifeless body, as he pushed himself back into the car, as if for protection. The nightmare he was experiencing was clearly etched on his face.
